End Game Read Online Free

the program, but because she was a low-timer in the aircraft, she’d been relegated to second seat by the program’s temporary head, Captain Breanna Stockard. Worse, Breanna had made Stewart her copilot.
    Bad enough to fly what was still essentially a B-52 after the hotter-than-fire B-1B. Worse—much, much worse—to be second officer after running the show.
    Today, though, Stewart was boss. Her nemesis had been scrubbed at the last minute due to a snowstorm in Chicago.
    â€œEEMWB detonation in twenty seconds,” said Lieutenant Sergio “Jazz” Jackson, who was serving as her copilot.
    â€œYup.”
    A tone sounded in her headphones, indicating that the weapon had detonated. Stewart hot-keyed her communications unit to tell the event commander, but got no response.
    She pulled back on the stick slightly, but the airplane failed to move.
    Had the shielding failed?
    Only partially—her configurable control panel was still lit.
    She’d go to manual control right away.
    Interphone working?
    â€œPrepare for manual control,” she said.
    â€œManual?” said Jazz.
    Immediately, Stewart realized what had happened—she’d turned the aircraft over to the flight control computer for the missile launch as part of the test protocol, and neglected to take it back.
    It was a boneheaded mistake that would cost her at least two rounds of beers. Thank God the Iron Bitch hadn’t been here to see it.
    â€œI mean, taking over control from the computer,” Stewart told Jazz lamely.
    â€œThat’s what I thought,” said the copilot.
    â€œ Dreamland Levitow ,” said the event controller. “Please repeat your transmission. I’m sorry—we were caught up in something here.”
    I’ll bet, thought Stewart, not entirely convinced that Breanna hadn’t somehow conspired with them to make her look bad.
    Â 
    D R . R AY R UBEO , D REAMLAND ’ S HEAD SCIENTIST , WAS WAITING for Colonel Bastian as he unfolded himself from the Raptor ’s cockpit.
    â€œSo how’d we do, Doc?” Dog asked, coming down the ladder. Techies were already swarming over the Raptor , preparing it for a complete overhaul. Besides thoroughly analyzing the shielding and systems for signs of damage from the T-Rays, the engineering team was planning a number of improvements to the plane, including a new wing structure that would lower its unfueled weight by five percent.
    â€œIt’s premature to speculate,” said Rubeo.
    â€œDo it anyway.”
    Rubeo frowned. “I’m sure that when the results are analyzed, the models predicting the impact of the weapon will be shown to be quite correct. All of the test instruments reported full hits. And,” he paused dramatically, “one of theground technicians forgot to remove his watch, and now finds that it no longer functions.”
    Dog laughed. The scientist touched his earring—a habit, the colonel knew, that meant he was planning to say something he considered unpleasant. Dog decided to head him off at the pass.
    â€œRay, if the full-sized weapons won’t be ready for testing—”
    â€œBah. They’re sitting in the bunker, all eight of them. Though the tests are unnecessary.”
    Then obviously I’m about to get harangued for more money, thought Dog, starting toward the Jimmy SUV waiting to take him over to the hangar area where he could change. Sure enough, Rubeo fell in alongside him and made the pitch.
    â€œIf you are going to proceed with the project, Colonel, I need several more technicians to assist while the team is away.”
    â€œCan’t do it, Ray. You’ve seen the budget.”
    â€œColonel, we are past squeezing water from a stone. We need more people.”
    Dog stopped to watch Dreamland Levitow practicing touch and goes on the nearby runway. As part of a new policy at Dreamland, the EB-52 Megafortress had been named for Sergeant John L. Levitow, an Air